


There, Just There

by sarahandthegraveyardshift



Series: The Wish Our Hearts Make [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: All the Smut, Double Penetration, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Mpreg, Soulmates, What else is new, are you there lorde it's me that girl who can't stop writing smut, here be smut, smutty-smutty smut-smut, they tryin' to get stiles's eggo preggo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:42:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29905443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahandthegraveyardshift/pseuds/sarahandthegraveyardshift
Summary: Stiles looks at his husbands with a sweet smile. “Take me to bed?” he pleads.[Let's make babies!!!]
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: The Wish Our Hearts Make [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1611778
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	There, Just There

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my goodness, hello!! Thank you so much for being here!! You are so unbelievably lovely!!
> 
> I'm really excited to get back to this series!! I have so many ideas!! I did sort of get distracted with my Motel Hell Chronicles series, which I love so much!! But now that that series is over, I have more time to concentrate on these silly boys, and I can't wait to show you what I have in store for their little family!!
> 
> Enjoyyy!!

Stiles sleeps for ten days. Not without half-waking for light meals and showers and using the bathroom. But when he isn't doing any of these things, he sleeps. Peter and Chris are close to desperation, going so far as to bring Deaton's number up on Chris's phone to see if the man will make a home visit to check on him. Before the hunter can hit the _call_ button, however, a yawn sounds from the staircase, and both men turn on the living room couch to find Stiles stretching and ambling down the stairs like it isn't seven o'clock in the evening and he hasn't practically been a zombie for the last week-and-a-half.

The young spark scratches his stomach beneath his t-shirt and stops in the middle of the living room, blinking tiredly at his husbands then turning and glancing out the window. “What time is it?” he asks, his voice sleep-rough, and he yawns again, his jaw cracking.

“Seven at night,” Peter supplies, watching as the young man frowns and sways slightly in front of them. “How do you feel, love?”

“I'm starving,” Stiles states, and the other men breathe out in relief, standing and bracketing the young man between them.

“What are you hungry for, baby?” Chris asks, brushing the spark's sleep-tussled hair away from his face. He needs to get it cut.

Stiles hums and smiles up at the man. “Everything.”

The older men chuckle and lead him into the kitchen, cooking while Stiles sits on the counter top and taste-tests everything they give him. They move to the table when the food is done, and Stiles sighs happily and eats until he's comfortably full. His hand drifts beneath his shirt at some point, poking at his stomach like he's expecting it to feel different. Look different.

“Everything all right?” Peter asks, taking Stiles's plate to the sink and rinsing it off.

Stiles hums and nods. “Yeah, it's fine.” He laughs at the skeptical looks he receives, leaning back in his chair and sighing. “I just thought I'd...I don't know, feel different?” He gives his husbands a tight smile, eyebrows drawn together as he continues to run his hand over his stomach. 

“You aren't in any pain, are you?” Chris asks, and Stiles's features soften.

“No,” he says sincerely, letting Peter sneak a hand beneath his shirt and press his palm flat against his skin. “None at all.” He waits for the werewolf to try and draw his pain, and when he can find none, Stiles smiles at him gently. “Do I smell any different?”

Peter leans forward, inhaling deeply and shaking his head. “No. Nothing's changed about your scent.” His eyes darken slightly. “Other than the fact that you smell delectably aroused.”

Chris huffs in laughter. “That's nothing new,” he says, reaching under the table and rubbing at Stiles's thigh. “Have you tried using your magic to see if anything has changed?”

“I can try,” Stiles says, one corner of his mouth quirking. “If you two stop distracting me.” The men reluctantly pull their hands away from him, and he closes his eyes, pressing both of his hands against his abdomen. He breathes out slowly as he lets his magic pool into his fingertips, reach out, search. What he finds is something safe and warm, something capable of creating life—a haven for their children until they're ready to be born. He snaps back to himself with a gasp, eyes blinking rapidly as a tear escapes down his cheek. “Oh,” he says, looking down at his stomach in wonder, “wow.”

“Stiles?”

“Is everything all right?”

Stiles looks at each man in turn, nodding and sniffling. “Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine,” he says, laughing wetly and wiping at his nose. “Holy shit, that's insane.” Peter's hand hesitantly glides along Stiles's stomach, Chris's joining a moment later, and the young spark curls his fingers around both of his husband's hands tightly. 

“What does it feel like?” the werewolf asks curiously.

Stiles's breath shudders, and he tilts his head as he searches for the right words. “It feels...protected, I guess?” He smiles down at the hands in his, at the hands that will hold their children and tuck them in at night and keep them so unbelievably safe. “It feels like this.” He squeezes his fingers and smiles at his men, his soulmates. “Like you make me feel—safe.”

Both Peter and Chris go to their knees on either side of him, wrapping their arms around the young spark and cocooning him in warmth. In love. They stay like that for several long moments before Stiles sighs deeply, and Chris and Peter pull back. The younger man places a hand on each of his husband's cheeks, looking between them with a sweet smile. 

“Take me to bed?” he pleads, and they stand. Peter kisses him first, deep and warm, as his hands roam over Stiles's body. The young man breaks the kiss when he needs air, turning to Chris with lust-blown eyes and tugging the man against himself. The kiss Chris presses to his lips is slow and sweet. 

Stiles's arms circle the hunter's shoulders as the man lifts him up, fingers digging into his thighs as the spark wraps his legs around his hips and squeezes. Chris follows Peter to the stairs, letting the werewolf steady him as he carries their husband to their bedroom. He lowers Stiles to his feet, raising the young man's arms. Peter presses himself to the young man's back, fingers delving under the hem of Stiles's shirt and tugging it up and off of him.

Stiles moans as the men run their hands over his skin, kneading at his muscles. Peter starts a trail of wet kisses along his neck and shoulders while Chris presses along his front and licks into the young man's mouth. “What do you need, baby?” the hunter asks against Stiles's lips.

Stiles's mouth falls open and his head falls back on Peter's shoulder as both men rut into him at the same time. “I need you both,” he whimpers, blunt fingernails scratching at Chris's arms as the men continue to move against him. “I need you both inside me. Together.”

Chris and Peter share a hungry look, and the hunter drops to his knees, taking his time to run his hands over Stiles's legs and hips, squeezing his ass before reaching into the hem of his boxers and slowly pulling them down. “Whatever you want, baby,” he whispers against Stiles's straining cock before taking it into his mouth and sucking him down to the base in one quick swallow. 

“Fuck!” Stiles cries out, trying to buck his hips, but Peter holds him still with a hand on his stomach. 

“Look at him, sweetheart,” the werewolf says against Stiles's ear, and the young man looks down, mouth opening wide to release a punched-out noise at the sight of Chris bobbing on him. “Look at him take you down his throat, like you were made to be there.” Stiles moans, loud and low. “Does he feel good?”

Stiles throws his head back against Peter's shoulder again. “So good,” he groans, whimpering as Chris hollows his cheeks and swirls his tongue around him. “Fuck, that feels amazing.”

The sound of a cap popping echoes in the room, and Stiles's breath stutters. 

“Do you want Christopher to open you up, sweet boy? Fuck you with his fingers while he sucks you?”

Stiles pants as he watches Peter pour a generous amount of lube onto Chris's waiting fingers. “Yes,” he says, gasping when Peter lifts one of his legs, pulling it towards his chest to give the hunter access to his entrance. The first finger that slides into him makes his toes curl, and he chokes on a whimper as Chris holds it there for several moments before pulling it out and gently thrusting it back in, again and again.

“Breathe, darling,” Peter reminds him, and Stiles releases a shuddering breath. “You're doing so well for us.” 

Chris slides a second finger into the young man and carefully begins to scissor them, listening to the moans it pulls from Stiles until he can add a third. Peter continues to whisper filthy, beautiful words into the spark's ear, reaching down with his free hand to stroke Chris's cheek. The hunter looks up at them as he works Stiles faster, pulling noise after noise from the young man until he tenses and comes down Chris's throat. 

“Beautiful,” Peter whispers, holding their young husband steady as his limbs go heavy. Chris releases him from his mouth and stands, fingers continuing to stretch Stiles as he crushes his mouth to Peter's. There's cum on his tongue, and the werewolf licks it from his mouth with a groan. “Let's move to the bed.”

Chris steps back, gently guiding his fingers out of the young man and shushing the whimper Stiles makes. He quickly removes his clothes, climbing onto the bed and sitting against the headboard. Peter gracefully scoops the spark into his arms and helps situate him so that he's straddling Chris's lap. The hunter runs his hands up and down Stiles's sides, whispering words of encouragement and peppering his chest and collarbone with kisses until Peter has stripped his own clothing and climbed onto the bed behind the young man.

“Do you need a moment, baby?” Chris asks, running the backs of his fingers along Stiles's cheekbone.

Stiles shakes his head fervently, hands gripping Chris's shoulders as he centers the man with a determined gaze. “No,” he states firmly, swallowing hard against the dryness in his throat. “I want my husbands inside of me. Now.”

Peter makes a low noise as he reaches around the young man, his hand slick with lube, and coats Chris with a few rough pumps. Chris groans, helping Peter move Stiles into position above him and pressing the head of his cock against the slick, stretched entrance. “Whenever you're ready.”

Stiles's mouth falls open as he sinks down onto Chris, arching his back as their hips meet. His fingernails dig into the hunter's shoulders, and he gasps when he feels Peter's warm chest press against him from behind. 

“Ready, my love?” Peter whispers against the shell of his ear, and the spark shudders, nodding quickly before he feels a slick finger circle his entrance where he's stretched around Chris. 

“Lean towards me, baby,” Chris says, and Stiles does, crashing their mouths together and whimpering as Peter works a fingertip in next to the hunter's cock. “Does that feel okay?”

Stiles moans against Chris's lips, resisting the urge to clench as Peter gently stretches him enough for a second finger. “So fucking good. Mm, I can't—ah!—I can't stand it. I need you both inside me. Peter, I need you inside me. Please.” The last word is drawn out into a whine as the werewolf scissors his fingers and carefully works a third into him. 

The stretch is so tight. It has Peter's teeth grinding at the mere thought of it. “Shh, sweetheart. Almost there. We want this to be so good for you. Just a bit more, I promise.”

Stiles makes pitiful little noises into Chris's neck until Peter has him stretched enough for a fourth finger, moving them inside the younger man while Chris presses kisses into Stiles's temple and strokes his hair over and over. 

“So good for us, baby. You're so perfect,” Chris says, watching Peter slick his leaking cock with lube and position it at Stiles's entrance, removing all but one finger to keep the young spark stretched enough to enter. “Take a breath, beautiful.”

Stiles does, gasping and digging blunt fingernails into Chris's shoulders as Peter sinks into him, inch by agonizing inch. “Fuck!” he moans, long and loud until Peter is fully sheathed inside him. 

Peter shakes from having to stay still, from resisting the instinct to claim the tight heat around him. He strings his fingers into Chris's hair and crushes their mouths together to relieve some of the urge. “Stiles,” he rasps, running a hand up and down the younger man's back, “are you all right?”

Stiles leans away from Chris slightly, clenching experimentally around the men and groaning at the burn it elicits. He releases one hand from the hunter's shoulder and reaches behind him, clenching at the hair on the back of Peter's head. “I'm okay,” he breathes, turning his head until he can meet Peter's lips with his own. He shifts his hips and throws his head back against the werewolf's shoulder, loosing a string of loud noises. “Fuck me. Please. Please, please, please.”

Chris runs his hands up and down Stiles's sides while Peter sucks dark marks into his neck. “Tell us if we need to stop,” the hunter says, tone firm, and Stiles nods frantically with a breathless, “I will.” The pace is slow at first as they let the younger man adjust to the both of them, as they find a rhythm that has Stiles panting and moaning.

“That's it, baby,” Chris says, groaning at the sensation of tight, slick heat and the slide of skin on skin on skin. He glides his hands up Stiles's chest, runs the pads of his thumbs over the younger man's peaked nipples and listens to the noises it pulls from his soulmate's throat. “You look so good like this. So beautiful stretched around us. Jesus, Stiles, you feel amazing.”

Peter's fingers tighten around the spark's hips as he gives a particularly harsh thrust that makes Stiles's cry out and beg for more. “Anything you want, darling boy. _Everything._ Tell us what you need.”

Stiles moans over and over as his men pound into him. He lifts his head and stares at Chris with hooded eyes. “Deeper,” he manages to gasp around a groan, turning his head to find Peter's bright blue eyes. “Harder.” Their pace quickens, becomes much rougher as they fulfill the spark's demands. “Touch me,” he begs, fingers tightening in Peter's hair as the werewolf wraps a hand around the younger man's cock and pumps him in time with his thrusts.

Chris reaches down and cups Stiles's balls, rolling them as he says, “Come for us, baby.”

Stiles arches as he comes, mouth open in a silent shout as he jerks in their arms. 

“Gorgeous,” Peter pants into his ear, holding the younger man upright as his limbs go heavy until both he and Chris find release inside their soulmate. They gentle their thrusts as they fill him, moving until the sensitivity becomes too much. Peter places kisses along Stiles's jaw, his neck, his shoulder. “How was that, my love?”

Stiles hums in content, grunting as he clenches around the soft cocks inside him. “So good,” he slurs, and both men chuckle. 

Peter turns the young spark's chin and kisses him deeply on the mouth as he carefully pulls out, swallowing the whimper from his mate's throat. “Shh, darling boy. We'll take care of you.” He presses blunt teeth to Stiles's neck and bites down just enough to distract him as he lifts him off of Chris. 

Stiles shudders at the empty feeling, breathing harshly at the burn left behind by his husbands. Peter turns him as he lays him down on his back beside Chris, kissing the hunter deeply. “I'll find something to clean us up,” he says softly, starting to get out of bed and stopping when Stiles grabs his arm. 

The young spark tugs at the werewolf until he covers him with his body, slotting their mouths together and kissing him until they need to break for air. “Thank you, Peter,” Stiles whispers, searching the man's gaze with tears in his eyes. “Thank you so much.”

Peter smiles and kisses him one last time before getting out of bed. Stiles shifts and throws a leg over Chris until he's straddling the man, cupping his face and looking into his sated eyes with the same reverence he gave Peter. “Thank you for giving me this, Chris,” he says quietly, lips quivering as he smiles and cries into the kiss he presses to the man's mouth. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Chris smiles and kisses his husband over and over and over. “Of course, Stiles,” he says, peppering his neck and his face with kisses until the young spark drifts off. “Anything for you.”

Peter returns with a warm washcloth and cleans them both, then helps maneuver Stiles until he's sandwiched between them, safe and content. The werewolf runs his fingers through his young husband's hair, traces the lines of his face. “How did we get so lucky, Christopher?” He looks up at the other man, who's watching him intently. “To find someone as brilliant and beautiful as he is?”

Chris smirks, running a hand up and down Peter's arm and squeezing. “He found us, remember?”

Peter chuckles and presses his lips to Stiles's temple. “He did—our magnificent spark. He found us and held us together.”

Chris pulls the werewolf into a kiss that's all tongue and teeth. And when they fall asleep, their fingers tangle together over Stiles's stomach.

0 o 0 o 0

As the week goes on, Stiles is determined. Resilient. Insatiable. And Chris and Peter are enthusiastic—to a point. 

The young spark rides Peter on the living room couch, and commands that the werewolf fuck him over the kitchen counter. They have sex in the woods and up against the side of the house and on the staircase leading up to their bedroom. Peter's refractory period is impressive, however even he has difficulty keeping up with his young husband's demands.

Stiles begs Chris to fuck him over the desk in his study, moans as his thighs smack against the wood hard enough to leave bruises. They fuck in the backyard when they're supposed to be doing yard work and in the shower when they're supposed to be getting clean and in the car when they're supposed to be buying groceries. Chris's stamina is far from average, even for his age, but Stiles can't possibly expect him to be ready-and-willing at every turn.

And Stiles always has them fuck him together in their bed. 

By the end of the week, the spark's husbands plead with him for one night of reprieve. Stiles tries not to let his disappointment show too much. 

“It's nothing you've done, my love,” Peter assures him, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the younger man's bare abdomen as they lay in bed. “Nothing makes me happier than seeing you sated while I'm inside you.” He kisses along Stiles's cock as it hardens, swirling his tongue around the head and licking into the slit before swallowing him down to the base. Lifting one of Stiles's legs slightly, he works two fingers into his stretched hole, twisting and scissoring them.

Stiles gasps, lips captured by Chris as he holds the younger man's hands above his head against the mattress. “Watching you writhe underneath us as we pound into you,” the hunter continues, sucking at his young husband's pulse point and leaving a trail of dark marks along his collarbone. “The noises you make are so delicious, baby.” He laves at one of Stiles's nipples, sucking it to a point and flicking the tip of his tongue across it over and over. He kisses a trail to the other and gives it the same attention while Stiles cries out. “Just one night to recuperate—that's all we ask.”

Stiles arches as he comes down Peter's throat, the man swallowing again and again until his mate is spent. The older men pepper him with kisses on every inch of skin they can reach until they're bracketed on either side of him. Their young soulmate sighs in resignation, eyes closed as he burrows between them. “Fine,” he concedes tiredly, asleep before the men release huffs of relief.

“Still think we're lucky?” Chris asks with a chuckle, blinking rapidly to try and keep his eyes open.

Peter pulls the comforter over the three of them, humming as sleep begins to drag him under. “Very,” he answers softly, hand splayed beside the hunter's over Stiles's stomach.

0 o 0 o 0

Stiles wakes in the middle of the night with a gasp, sitting up between his soulmates and jostling them awake. 

“Stiles?”

“Baby, what's wrong?”

The young spark breathes out sharply, shaking hands pressed against his stomach as he reaches out with his magic—searching. Something pushes back. _Two_ somethings, actually. And the feeling that fills him is one of absolute and utter adoration. 

“Sweetheart, say something,” Peter begs, cupping the young man's face and turning it towards himself. 

Stiles swallows and breathes and shudders with an incredulous sound. “I'm okay,” he whispers, stroking the man's cheek and turning to do the same to Chris. “I'm all right, I promise. I, uh—” His hands flutter to his stomach again, holding tight to the hope welling in his chest. “I'm just gonna use the bathroom.”

He climbs out of bed and rushes to the bathroom, closing the door quietly and pressing his forehead to the chill of the wood for a moment to calm his nerves. With a deep breath, he turns to the large cabinet and grabs a pregnancy test, tearing open the box with trembling fingers and barely glancing over the directions before lifting the seat of the toilet. He nearly forgets to take the cap off of the stick, but once he does, he holds it in shaking fingers as he pees on it, almost dropping it a couple of times.

He replaces the cap once he's done, setting it on the counter and flushing the toilet before washing his hands and drying them. Pressing them flat against the counter, he hangs his head and closes his eyes, trying desperately to calm his breathing. He timidly presses the tips of his fingers to his stomach again, gently reaching out with his magic and biting the inside of his cheek until the feeling from before starts to return.

A knock on the door startles him, and the feeling fades. “Yeah?”

“Stiles, are you all right?” Chris asks carefully from the other side. “Can we come in?”

“Yeah,” he says roughly, not sure which question he's answering. The door opens, and Chris and Peter stand awkwardly in the doorway, gazes centering on the pregnancy test on the counter. Stiles huffs and shifts on his feet, running his hands through his hair and clenching his fingers. “It doesn't say anything yet. I'm not even sure if it will. Do they make tests for magical pregnancies? Like, 'Hey, your hunter and werewolf husbands knocked you up, congrats!'”

“Baby,” Chris says softly, stepping forward and gathering the younger man against him while Peter brackets him from the other side. “Tell us what you felt when you woke up.”

Stiles drags in a long breath, gripping the man's arms so hard that his hands shake. “I felt them.” He pulls back and looks at each man in turn, swallowing thickly. “I felt our babies. They're...” His voice trails off as he looks down at his stomach, uncertainty crossing his features. “Fuck. What if I...What if it was just a dream? What if I'm imagining it? Shit, I'm just getting all our hopes up—”

“Stiles,” Peter says firmly, his tone calming the young man instantly. “Show us.” Stiles turns in their hold, facing Peter with wide, wet eyes. “It's okay, sweetheart. We believe you.” He takes the younger man's face in his hands and holds his gaze. “Now show us so that you believe _yourself_.”

Stiles licks his lips, grabbing hold of Peter's wrists and nodding as a few tears track down his cheeks. “Okay,” he whispers, sniffling and wiping at his nose before turning towards the mirror and taking his husbands' hands. He gingerly presses them to his stomach, holding his own over them and closing his eyes. He pushes at his magic until it responds. 

It takes several moments of concentration, gritting his teeth and clenching his blunt fingernails into the hands under his own and nearly giving up until—

There.

Just there.

Three collective gasps sound in the bathroom, Stiles's eyes flying open and meeting the astonished gazes of his soulmates in the mirror. Peter instantly drops to his knees, staring at the spark's abdomen in wonder and spreading his hand wider as if to draw in more of what he's feeling. The little lives beneath their hands pulse, barely beginning to form. 

But there.

Just there.

“Oh, Stiles,” Peter breathes, whining low in his throat as the spark lets the feeling fade. He looks up at Stiles, and a tear looses down his face. “They're magnificent.”

“They're amazing, baby,” Chris says, just as awed as the other man, smiling happily when Stiles turns to look at him. “ _You're_ amazing.”

Stiles shakes his head, looks down at the hands on his stomach as his throat closes around the hope that so desperately wants to bubble up in happiness. “What if it's just...wishful thinking? What if I'm making it up because I want it to be real?”

“Stiles,” Peter says, standing and holding something out for the younger man to see. It's the pregnancy test. “It's positive.”

Stiles stares at the test for several long moments before a sob bubbles up his throat. He turns into Chris, crying into his shoulder and shaking in his arms. “Fuck! Thank God!” He sniffles and pulls back once the tightness in his throat abates and he's able to speak more than a couple words. “I mean, not that I didn't totally love having sex with you both—” He turns to Peter and wraps him in a tight embrace as well. “—but, fuck, that was a lot. Like, I haven't been able to sit comfortably for the past week.”

Chris and Peter both chuckle, their fingertips gliding over Stiles's stomach like they're trying to chase the feeling that their young husband showed them. 

“It was a lot for us, too, baby,” Chris says, kissing the back of Stiles's neck and rubbing at his shoulders. 

Peter grabs a glass sitting beside the sink, filling it with water and making sure Stiles drinks all of it. “Come on. Let's go back to bed.” He leads the men back into the bedroom, and the three of them curl up beneath the covers, Peter and Chris's hands splayed wide on the younger man's stomach.

“Show us again?” Peter whispers against Stiles's ear, kissing his neck a few times. “Our bright, beautiful spark—please show us?”

Stiles sighs happily, closing his eyes and covering his soulmates' hands with his own. He smiles as his magic finds the two little lives easily, already adapted to the feeling of them—safe and warm and loved. Peter and Chris breathe out in wonder. 

Their family, their little pack, is growing.

**Author's Note:**

> My friend, you are so incredibly important!! I am really, really glad you're here!! And I hope you are taking good care of yourself!! Please, please, please don't forget to drink some water and eat some yummy foods and get enough sleep and sunshine!! I am sending so many good vibes your way across this crazy universe!!
> 
> Have an amazing day!!


End file.
